It Ain't Me, Babe - Page 13/126

“So you think this random bitch, is Wolf Eyes? The weird Amish Pilgrim-looking girl you met fifteen years ago… behind a metal fence… in the middle of some f**kin’ forest… while your old man was putting a damn Diablo in the ground? Have I got that right? The piece of ass you turned into a weeping, pining pu**y for?”

With only a hunch of my shoulders, I managed to ignore his dick tone.

Those wolf eyes. I stood and began pacing. I know I sound like a whining f**k. But what if it is her? What the hell’s happened to her leg? And more importantly, where’s she been all these bastard years? Still caged in that f**kin’ concentration camp that I’ve never found since? Still not talking, scared of her own f**kin’ shadow?

Ky stared down at her on the bed, an expression of pure disbelief on his face. She looked like a f**kin’ angel that just dropped in on me from the sky—tiny, fragile… I bent beside her, just staring. Ky moved in front of me to catch the movement of my hands.

Never found out what was behind that fence. Tried to get information—none to get. No one’s even heard of the place. A f**kin’ Auschwitz near Austin. ’Course, don’t help when you don’t even know the f**kin’ location—my old man kept that locked up tight, I was too young to remember the directions. Wherever she’s come from is iron clad. Protected. Can only mean there’s some seriously f**ked-up shit going down. Fucked-up shit protected by powerful people. People who’ll no doubt be looking for her right now.

Carefully, Ky watched me. I could see real worry in his face. “I ain’t ever seen you like this, brother. You going soft on me? Bikes and pu**y, Styx, that’s how we live. Ride hard; die harder. Club first, no distractions.”

Yeah, he was right. I was being a sappy shit. No way this was her anyhow. Fuckin’ wishful thinking.

Moving over to the table, I poured two glasses of Jim, downed mine, and passed one to my VP.

I’ve thought ’bout that girl every day. Fifteen f**kin’ years. You and me grew up in hell… darkness. She was the first bit of good I ever saw. I choked on a laugh. Fuckin’ first kiss, man.

Ky slapped me on the back, grinning. “And two years later, you f**ked your first club slut and never looked back.”

Yeah. Sunk my dick deep in one of Hangmen’s favorite sluts at age thirteen, courtesy of my old man trying to make me forget about the pilgrim bitch. He even changed the stiff drop site so I’d let go of anything to do with her.

Ky lost his smile and stood right in front of me. “Look, man. Don’t look like she’ll last the night. Make peace, brother. You meeting that girl was a moment in time, and if this is her, which I’m pretty f**kin’ sure it ain’t, ’bout time you put that shit to bed. She’s on her way to Hades, Styx. Time to wake the f**k up and get back to being the Prez. We’ve too much shit going down to be distracted by pu**y.” He reached behind me and passed me the full bottle of Beam.

Rider knocked on the door. I quickly gripped my best friend’s arm, signing, None of this shit to the brothers. This info stays between us. Just another Jane Doe dumped on us, right?

His stiff head nod told me he understood.

Rider walked in, his long brown hair in a ponytail, ready for business.

“Let me take a look at her,” he said, moving to the bed, all business.

“Styx found her behind the dumpster. She’s bleeding out from her leg. Looks like a bite, dog maybe? Pulse is low too. Bitch is dying,” Ky informed.

Rider set to examining the bitch as I watched. For the first time in my life, I prayed to a God I weren’t on good terms with. No one here was. In this kinda life we were tight with the other side of the coin. But she had to survive. That much I knew. That’s what I prayed for, bartering with promises I no doubt couldn’t keep. Truth was I just had to know if it was her or not. Finally put that f**kin’ weird chapter of my life to rest.

“What the—” My eyes shot up to Ky, who hovered over her newly cleaned wrist, the one Rider was holding out as he checked her pulse. Moving next to Ky, I frowned as he read her small tattoo out loud. “Revelation 21:8. What the f**k?”

“But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”

Ky and I froze as Rider started spouting some Bible shit like a preacher, never missing a beat. Seeing us gaping, he cleared his throat, cheeks blazing red, eyes darting between us and the ground, mumbling, “It’s scripture about sinners going to hell.” Then he set back to work. Ky elbowed me in my ribs and raised his brows in question. I shrugged. Whatever a brother believed in private was his deal.